


Enter Polaris

by MermaidsandMermen (SophiaSoames)



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: M/M, fan convention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 17:44:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18815875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophiaSoames/pseuds/MermaidsandMermen
Summary: Isak Valtersen was not supposed to go to some bleeding fan convention, despite being a closet fanboy and secretly kind of adoring the geeky Sci-Fi show the boys are obsessed with. He wasn't supposed to go, and he hates himself for agreeing to take Magnus place. Because? It's not his thing. Ever. Bloody stupid crowds and photo shoots and people dressed like aliens?He hates it. He hates everything about it.





	Enter Polaris

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pagnilagni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pagnilagni/gifts).



> Happy Birthday to the gorgeous Pagnilagni, who graces us with her amazing productivity and gorgeous stories. Here's one for you because I am an idiot and....weeeeelll. Yolo. Everyone should go to a fan convention at least once! (dies with shame)  
> Thank you to everyone who attended the Dreamit con yesterday, to the Actors who dealt with inhumane working hours and craaaazyyyy posing, all day. And to Axel who is a real life duracell-bunny and the most amazing human I have ever had the honour to meet.

It’s not the most graceful of exits, stumbling out into the Parisian daylight head first whilst trying not to break both his legs and he is still holding onto Jonas’ bag. What the hell was he thinking?

Now, Isak Valtersen’s brain is a mysterious place most of the time, even for himself. It’s his brain and he can rarely understand half the shit that goes on in there, and fuck. FUCK. Well. Fuck it.

Fuck Jonas too, because it was his bloody idea. And Mahdi and Zain who are kind of obsessed with that damn TV show. And Magnus who ended up with that conference lecture, and couldn’t use his ticket and bloody Isak and his damn mouth, because of course he would take Magnus’ place and go to Paris. Of course, he would tag along, and get all the autograph’s for Magnus. Yeah. Because Isak Valtersen is an idiot.

It’s called Enter Polaris, an epic, no fuck that, it's a stupid Sci-Fi series that everyone is obsessed with and there is this Norwegian actor in the lead and…yeah. Isak is fucked. He’s a bloody grown up with a responsible job and he can talk to anyone, and he has definitely left all that awkward teenaged angst behind. He is single, responsible, pays his bills on time, eats well, goes to the gym like clockwork and fuck fuck fuck.

His brain does an emergency break again as he tumbles down on the pavement and let’s his head hang between his knees. Faint.

Yup. And he feels like he is going to throw up. What the hell is wrong with him?

Maybe it was the damn fondue. Or Jonas' bloody Moules Frites. And then Zain made them have the damn Shakshuka for breakfast and the eggs are now repeating on him like a motherfucker.

His brain just punches him in the head again as he sighs with resigned exhaustion. He knows neither of those excuses will cut it if he’s honest with himself. He’s rarely honest with himself, he knows that, but he’s tried having a girlfriend. He’s tried the hook-ups. He’s tried bloody Grindr and it freaked him out for weeks after. Then.

Yes.

OKAY.

He almost screams into thin air, terrifying a mother walking past with a pram and some yappy little French dog.

He looks like a down and out, trying to get his jacket off. Repeatedly tugging at his hair and swearing loudly in every language he can think of.

It had been fun this morning. A few panels and some photo shoot with a load of hot girls that play alien warriors. They had been in costume as well and Jonas had almost combusted with excitement as Zain had been dumbstruck and Mahdi had gotten so flustered that he had spoken Norwegian to them. There had been an alien group photoshoot, and Isak looks like shit in it. Everyone else looks happy and of course Isak had his eyes closed, which means the new cool profile pic on Facebook is out of the question. He had kind of thought it would make a hilarious gag-joke thing out of it all, but NOPE. Not happening. He just feels dumb and the damn photo is shoved into the bottom of his bag, and he will throw it away as soon as he finds a bin.

Speaking of which, he rummages through Jonas’ bag like a creep, throwing random stuff on the ground looking for the packet of cigarettes. He rarely smokes but right now? He needs all the help he can get. Caffeine, Nicotine….he could kill for a joint. Anything.

Now it’s not often Isak is embarrassed, but right now, he doesn’t even know what to think about himself.

He had just stood there, in some queue to have a photo taken with that actor. Yes, that one. The Norwegian guy. Tall. Handsome as hell. Flirty. Always in the papers, full of shit. Like big time shit. Like TV awards and stuff, girls screaming when he entered the room and Jonas and Mahdi had screamed along as well like some overgrown fangirls whilst Zain had laughed and Isak had died a slow agonizing death on the inside.

Even Bech Næsheim. The Even. The guy who plays Axel Polaris, the saviour of the human race. Or some shit. Isak has found the packet of cigarettes and now he can’t get the cellophane wrapper open and more profanities are escaping his mouth and his hands are shaking so bad that he’s starting to get worried. He’s not freaked out. Nope. Not. Not at all.

“Do you want one of mine?”

Now he is jumping out of his skin and having a heart attack as well. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“What?” He’s speaking English as well, when the guy clearly spoke to him in Norwegian. And that voice. He can’t look up. Can’t. Won’t. Because to add to the rest of the shitstorm that is Isak Valtersen’s life? Now he is having a heart attack as well. Great. RIP Isak Valtersen who died at a fan convention in bloody Paris because….Because. He doesn’t even know why.

“You don’t speak Norwegian? Sorry, I thought I heard you and your friends speaking Norwegian. I’m Even. I just wanted to come out and check that you were OK. I noticed you in the queue for the photos and you were looking like you were freaking out. There were a lot of people in there, and it get’s really hot. “

The guy needs to stop talking, and Isak is now desperately tugging at the cigarette packet, which is squashed and crinkly in his grip.

And he can’t speak. Can’t say a word.

“Here.” Even says, still speaking English, and sits his jean clad arse down on the ground next to Isak who jumps. Again. Like he can’t make his freaking adult body work like a normal person.

And now there is a cigarette being placed between his lips, and there is hot breath on his cheek as Even. Yes. Even. That fucking Even, leans over and lights it, holding his hand up ridiculously close to Isak’s face to shield the flame from the wind.

And Isak, thank God, seems to be able to function normally enough to take a long satisfying drag on the thing. Disgusting. He hates smoking. No idea why he thought this would help, but at least he doesn’t choke on it and cough his guts up.

“Shouldn’t you be in there?” Isak’s mouth says in Norwegian and he immediately regrets it. He shouldn’t speak. Like ever. Especially not here.

“Nah, needed a break.” Even replies, blowing a perfect ring of smoke from his mouth. Not that Isak is looking. He can’t. It’s. Even. "You're Norwegian. Cool. I rarely get to speak it."

“But shouldn’t you have security or something?” STOP FUCKING TALKING! Isak should ask polite questions. Talk about the weather. Pretend he is invisible. Die. Right here.

“Christophe and Marcel. They are over there pretending they are the CIA or something. See? By the trees? Well, Christophe is playing candy crush, and Marcel has music on in his earpiece. He’s stupid enough to have it on loud enough so everyone can hear the beat. It’s been driving me mad all morning. It’s nice to get away from it for a bit. “

“Okay.” Isak says. Then breathes in. Coughs. Feels stupid. Small. Idiotic.

“It’s ok to freak out.” Even says softly.

“It’s not ok.” Isak replies before he can stop himself. “I wasn’t freaking out, it was too hot and I was holding my mates backpack, and, I don’t know.”

“You freaked out.” Even laughs softly. “It’s OK. I freak out too. We were filming this thing last week where I have to dive head first off a cliff. It’s not even real and I started crying because it was bloody exhausting and they made me wear rubber protective gear and it was really awkward. I hated it. So, you see? It’s fine. We all have our moments.”

“I did not.” Isak says and he sounds sullen. Whilst Even laughs softly.

“What’s your name?” Even takes another long drag of his cigarette.

“Isak Valtersen.” Fuck. He sounds like a dork. He shouldn’t freak out. But…

Now here’s the truth. Isak Valtersen is Gay. Gay AF. And he knows it. Most of his mates know it. It’s just that he doesn’t really talk about it, or admit to his crushes. Because he crushes on people and has these wild freak outs and really really loves…. Enter Polaris. Not that he admits that to people, but he kind of buys the box set every time they release the newest season. He owns the books. The making of documentary DVD. And the Blu-ray. The limited edition one with the free poster. Not that he has taken it out of the packaging or told the boys, he keeps his little treasures well out of sight hidden away in a drawer. They make him happy. In the weirdest way, and to be honest he knows most of the episodes by heart. He might have watched them enough times to be way to familiar with the dialogue. And he has questions. So many questions. Yet here he is, hyperventilating and sweating and sucking awkwardly at the butt of the cigarette in his hand wishing he was charming and suave and not so bloody stupid.

“I was freaking out. Sorry.” He almost whispers. He doesn’t know why.

“Of course, you were, and that’s fine. If I didn’t have to go back in there, I would buy you a coffee. You are looking a bit pale still. If I get Marcel to bring you out a sandwich, will you promise to eat it? No. Hang on. If you come inside with me, I can get Marcel to take you to the greenroom for a sec and he will get you a sandwich. You know one of those orgasmic baguette things. With Jambon. And Brie. “

“Orgasmic?” Isak laughs. Oh. So now all of a sudden, he can talk?

“I tell you, I would live here if I could. Just get a room over a bakery and eat bread all day. My agent would kill me because I would get fat. Really fat.”

“You’re not fat.” Isak says.

“You haven’t even looked at me, all the time I’ve been sat here. How do you know I am not fat?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Isak snaps. “You’re like, all gorgeous and perfect.” Then he blushes.

Then looks at Even. Defiantly. Because you don’t accuse Isak Valtersen of being chicken. And of course, he can look at Even and not freak out.

Ah. Apparently not. And Even laughs softly and nudges his shoulder.

“Good to know that you think I’m gorgeous. You’re not too bad yourself.” Even is smiling. Isak can hear it in his voice, the gentle laughter and the little sounds he makes when he laughs. He might have studied Even’s laughter. Intensively. Oh fuck. This is going to get embarrassing. Isn’t it?

“I don’t think you’re gorgeous, it’s just, you’re Axel Polaris, and you’re like….Him….and I just. You’re like not even human dude.”

“Shut up.” Even laughs and now he is leaning far too close to Isak. His body jerking with little snippets of laughter as he speaks.  “I’m bloody gorgeous and you know it, you just told me. But, look Isak. I’m just a kid from Ski who got lucky. Nothing else. At the end of the day I’m a skinny bloke with insecurities who is never going to be as good an actor as they make me out to be. I’m crap most days and every take takes 100 goes because I get nervous and freak out and then I say the wrong thing. I’m just human. I also smoke to much and can’t follow a diet and eat too much carbs and never go to the gym…”

“Shut up.” Isak laughs back. “Shut it.”

It’s almost real, the way Even leans against him, his laughter making Isak all warm inside.

It’s not real. He does know that. Honestly, because things like that only happens in Isak’s messed up daydreams when he is supposed to be measuring out samples on agar plates and logging test results, and not floating off in fantasies about Even Bech Næsheim. The Even. The one who awkwardly folds his long legs in so he can stand up, letting his hand steady himself against Isak’s shoulder.

“It was really cool meeting you.” Isak stutters out and tries to get up, whilst Even grabs his hand giving him a little tug so he stumbles again, almost chest bumping Even who just laughs. Again. Does the guy never stop laughing?

“You’re not getting out of that baguette dude. You’re coming with me, and we’re getting you fed. And I believe I owe you a photo. Marcel will get you back in the line when you’re done. If you still want to. Do you? I mean. It….”

Even stops talking and Isak’s mouth hangs open. It’s like the first time Even has been quiet in…minutes. “You might just not want to. Sorry. I just. I don’t know, you….”

He stops and his whole body sinks. Like he’s suddenly completely lost all that bravado and bravery and superstar persona he seems to project. Suddenly, and Isak’s chest suddenly feels all warm, because Even looks a little scared. Like he’s done something stupid and just realized. Like Isak. Like, Isak thinks, that maybe…

No, it’s stupid. He still does it. Leans in and gives Even a little hug.

It’s just a second long and Isak’s face is scarlet and his armpits are pouring with sweat and he’s just made a complete fool out of himself, thinking that giving Even Bech Næsheim a hug would make him somehow feel better. Like he would mean something. Like he could help.

He’s nobody. And this dude is a stranger. A superstar actor with money and fame and fortune. All the things Isak doesn’t have. And probably a cool girlfriend in the wings and two surly security guards that are suddenly far too close for Isak’s comfort and self-esteem.

Whilst Even shuffles his feet and holds his hands up to the security guards, like he is telling them he’s OK. Not that they move an inch and Even looks almost embarrassed again.

“I need to go back, there are like ridiculous lines. But, hey. I just. You know. I saw you in line and you kind of stood out and I couldn’t stop staring at you, because I was telling the truth when I said you’re very cute. And hot. I’m just not saying that and then you freaked and I just wanted to meet you. You’re a cool guy Isak and I don’t want to sound creepy, but would you? You know. No. Sorry.”

He turns around as to leave and Isak freezes. Because. What?

“What did you want to ask?” He says and grabs hold of Even’s arm. Whilst Marcel grunts and steps ridiculously closer saying something stern in French.

“Il est Norvegien. Anglais s’il vous plait.” Even hisses and holds his arm up to shove Marcel out of the way whilst the other security guy grunts into his headset.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to come on so strong, I just thought, I never meet anyone I like, and I know it’s been like two minutes, but do you think. Maybe, if. I mean you probably want to hang with your friends, but would you stay after? Just have a beer with me and talk? You could bring your friends and we could just have a drink, and these two musclebags will be with us so I promise nothing will happen to you. Would you? Just one drink? We can talk Norwegian and freak out over beer and French food.”

“You are crazy.” Isak says. Then he burst into a fit of giggles, because this whole thing is just surreal. “Are you just coming out to me? Telling me you bat for my team and you want a date?”

It sounds harsher than he means it, but it is ridiculous. Even asking for a date? Even who is obviously so out of Isak’s league and also is usually seen with a hot chick on his arm? Isak just shakes his head. If he was freaking out before? Now? He’s obviously on crack and there was something illegal in that cigarette and the Mussels and fondue are once again reminding him that he shouldn’t be eating shit like that. Ever. Never again.

“I’m not officially out, but I promise you, I would never hide. If I’m with someone, and that someone was someone as cool as you, I wouldn’t hide.” He almost whispers it, and his voice is suddenly all wobbly.

“I almost freaked out at the thought of having a photo with you. I almost had a panic attack. I am having a heart attack here just talking to you, and your security are ready to put me in a coma because I hugged you like some crazy freak fan. I can’t. I….”

There it is. The familiar panic back again sweeping all rational thought out of Isak’s head.

“Come with me.” Even almost hisses whilst he signals at the security guys to follow. Then they walk and Isak can’t control it. He is now freaking out big time. Heart all over the place and his eyes buried in his hands and he’s hanging on to Even’s jacket and his head is tingling and his feet are somehow managing to move as they walk back through the crowds in the foyer, and the noise as people cheer is deafening. They are cheering for Even. Not for the freakish Norwegian man who is behaving like a child. It’s hot. It’s so freaking hot and then Jonas is there and Marcel the security guy almost elbows him in the gut as Even sweeps right by with Isak in a tight grip.

It’s surreal. Crazy. And then they don’t head to the green room but there are staff and Even is being manhandled back into the photo studio and suddenly it’s all bright and everyone is screaming and Even is right there, gently holding Isak’s face.

“So, you stubborn dickhead.” He whispers. “Please stay behind after, and give Marcel your phone number so I can find you. Please. I won’t forget. I promise. Just please stay.

“What if I don’t?” Isak sasses. So? So now his body decides to cooperate again? The noise is deafening with fans screaming and the photographer is shouting and some staff woman is shouting that they need to move on, and just pose? S’il vous plait?

“Promise to wait, please just take a nice photo with me. Humour me Isak. Just give me a hug and smile. “

If Isak could punch this Even in the stomach and get away with it, he probably could, because the guy is ridiculous. And he spots Jonas in the crowd looking like he is about to die. And Even just stands there with his hands around Isak’s blotchy face and Marcel is grunting in French and the crowds are chanting.

“Give him a kiss!!!” Someone shouts, and the crowd cheers.

“You think I should kiss him?” Even shouts and the roar is deafening.

“Can I?” He smiles softly as Isak just shakes his head. And nods. And laughs. Because? What the fuck just happened to his life? He is never going to a con. He wasn’t going to a con. He’s not supposed to be here. Like. Ever. Never.

Instead he just leans in and kisses. Let’s his lips just press against the lips belonging to Even Bech Næsheim. Presses and sucks and licks and tastes and Even is right there kissing him back and his chest is against Even’s chest and he smells like heaven and a little bit of cigarettes and sweat and heat and Isak is dizzy. For a completely different reason.

“Please pick up your photo. I need this one. We have our first kiss on camera in 8-megapixel resolution on a bright pink back ground. Please. We need to keep it.”

“You are crazy. It’s all true what I read about you.“ Isak laughs.

“Every fucking word. “Even quips back. “See you later?”

Isak just winks. He doesn’t trust this guy as far as he can throw him, but what the hell. His lips are still stinging as Jonas shoves him against the wall and starts spitting out questions. And Zain just smiles like Isak has discovered the magic formula to cure the common cold, and Mahdi. He’s lost the plot, jumping up and down squealing like something is seriously wrong with him.

Isak picks up his picture. Laughs with embarrassment as some girls ask to take a photo of him holding the picture. Has a hysterical breakdown when Marcel won’t stop following him around. He’s even outside the door when Isak takes a piss.

He’s not supposed to be here. But life doesn’t always work like that, and Isak life has just spun out of control.

He almost throws up in his beer when Even turns up at the bar Marcel has driven all of them too, and Jonas has a small panic attack when Even signs his jacket and Mahdi doesn’t speak a word all evening despite all Zain’s efforts.

He has two beers and feels gut punch drunk.

He’s definitely punch drunk when Even kisses him goodnight and Marcel sighs loudly at having to stand and politely watch them eat eachother’ s faces.

And Isak cries on the plane home. He can’t help himself. It’s just he’s got Even’s number in his phone and 14 messages declaring Isak to be the love of his life, and Even is so full of shit that it’s not even funny.

But maybe it is. And maybe this shit doesn’t happen to other people but… whatever.

Whatever happens he can always dream. And sometimes dreams turn out to be fucking crazy.


End file.
